


the idiot effect

by snacc_noir



Series: Iconic Reveals Index [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: A bunch of subtle canon changes will become apparent throughout, Alternate Universe - Crack, But still idiots, Chat confession to LB never happened, Chat doesn't know Marinette's in love with Adrien and vice-versa, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Marichat Friendship aww yeaa, Marinette's an A-grade flirt, also i fixed the statue scene so you're welcome, idiots to lovers, they're both all "they flirt but it's nothing" and it's hilarious, this is all a mess but i'm not apologising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snacc_noir/pseuds/snacc_noir
Summary: It starts as a game about their mystery love interests.“He’s really smart. I’m sure he’ll pick up on it one day.”“Oh really?” Chat goads. “Then for them to realise, let’s see who can flirt better.”Yeah... turns out there’s actually alot moreto realise.(Or the fic where Marinette’s a ruthless flirt, Ladybug and Adrien are dense, and Plagg can’t stop laughing at everyone)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Iconic Reveals Index [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688881
Comments: 13
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because [ Tumblr ](https://snacc-noir.tumblr.com/) made me do it

Listen.

Marinette stuffs up but when she stuffs up it’s with _class_ , alright? When there’s a problem, her own or not, she fixes it because that’s just what she _does_. She spews garbage and has the composure of a flailing eel trying to stand upright – but she’s a pillar source of entertainment for it. She’s a normal girl, with a normal life (except for the superhero thing), so _excuse_ her for trying to be adventurous once and a while.

Adventurous, flirtatious; whatever.

She’s made it to school two minutes after waking up before and was recently (6th Grade Graduation) voted “Sweetest Classmate”, so yeah, she’s quite _up there_. And ever since (unwillingly) sprouting the wings of a brave superheroine she’s tried her hand at a bit of _confidence_ , despite those continual dignity stuff ups she’s played off gracefully (the tripping happens no matter what, she can’t control that, okay?) The Guy may be the son of a famous fashion artist—that has, in fact, recognised Marinette’s talent and sent her self-esteem higher than Chat’s puns make her want to throw him—and is entirely out of her league,

But see, _usually_ that would cease her pursuits, if not for, you know, the fact she’s an _epic superhero_ and he’s the _biggest snack_ she’s ever seen. 

Kindness? A literal angel? Most wholesome grace? 

A model?

 _As if_ she’s not flirting with _that_. 

She shivers remembering the ignorant days (half a school day) where she was under the idiocy that _Adrien Agreste_ of all celestial beings had the tenacity to be an entitled jerk with an inheritance long enough to rival the list of times _Dupain-Cheng_ had sliced from Chloé’s lips through the years. 

And yeah, that couldn’t have been further from the truth, but genuinely, _genuinely_ , flaws and all, Adrien Agreste is the sweetest being she’s ever met. 

That she’s stuffed up her chances with, countless times.

(But reminder: it always goes down in _class_.)

Chat Noir knows how to flirt. He’s not too relevant – her miraculous partner in battle, black-suit-clad teenage girl idol, the best friend she’d kill herself and everyone she knows for – you know, the least of importance right now. But she’s got to admit, he has some good ones when she’s suited up. Only difference between him and her is that on _Ladybug,_ it’s all fun and games with no meaning. But with _Adrien_ , 

she’s serious.

(Most of the time. The lines _are_ pretty eccentric.)

She loves him. It’s whatever. She doesn’t know if he loves her back but she’ll make it work. He can’t pick up a hint for his _life_ — causing completely no progress— but the way her indications of affection propel over his halo is just a spanner in the mission to conquer his heart; a mere stain to the golden-hearted persona she adores so much; so much as a _friend_ , too.

Because, you know,

“We’re friends,” Adrien tells his capped friend as though the suggestive nudges up the courtyard would lessen, an attempt that fails, because an arm is slung around him instead in such a _buddy-buddy_ way he knows is saved for interrogating or persuading purposes.

“You didn’t hear what she said to you?”

How could he _not_.

He didn’t mind. If anything, he found it humorous. “Yeah, she’s just messing around like that.” 

“Mmmhmm… sure,” Nino says in a way that totally isn’t assuring. “I don’t even have _Alya_ telling me we should share a locker to hide in during an akuma attack. And we’re dating.”

“That’s because Marinette’s joking around. Since we’re _friends_.”

“Since you’re _soulmates_. ” 

“Mmmhmm…” he mocks, cheek twitching, “sure.”

* * *

One-hundred percent sure, according to Marinette the next day.

It’s some chemistry lesson half the class doesn’t pay attention to because they’re overreacting (ha) to their assigned lab partners, and Adrien’s _fine_ since he’s paired with Good Friend Marinette. And although he doesn’t like her like _that_ – after all, Ladybug’s a thing – she seriously is lovely company without so much as an awkward fence (excluding the way she stumbles heading to the bench) to hinder their bonding (ha _ha_ ). 

Because, for those in the back, _they’re just friends_.

She’s funny and kind and all that, talented too – class rep, master of the arts, always doing things for others. Her confidence is mystifying but not unappreciated. In fact, having a crush on her would baffle him since she’s so out of his league (he says, dressing up as a cat and going after a superhero) , or at least impossible considering how much she’s definitely kidding with her flirtatious behaviour. No matter what Nino says.

The equipment clinks on the benches as his partner sets up. Distracted by Chloé whinging about Alya for a lab partner, he’s oblivious to the manner about how Marinette scoots next to him. 

“Look at us together. I bet we were paired because we have so much _chemistry,_ ” she says, out of nowhere, and yet completely expected at the same time as he turns back. “I guess we just work _so well_ together.”

His lips tickle, but he sterns himself by moving an elbow dumbly, knocking a small beaker of water so the contents spill across a ripped page of discarded notes. Her old work fuses to the bench as the ink bleeds and they watch. “Apparently not.”

Marinette cracks a grin. “You _suck_.”

“ _You_ suck.”

“You—”

The lesson is a blast.

* * *

Marinette doesn’t know how someone can get any more dumb. Or is it dumber? Whatever. They’re tied for English, anyway (“The A + stands for Adrien plus Marin—” “Shut up.”). And she knows it’s not _her_ who’s the dumb one because, um, hello? You need to have the supremacy of a genius to have the flirtatious skills she can dish out, possibly a degree of some kind.

Adrien’s smart, but he’s not—

He’s not _there_ sometimes. It’s because of her absolute lack of progress (and she knows the lines are just Too Good for her to not be at fault here) that she often wonders if retreating to the long-abandoned pink-cheeked and shy character would’ve made things any more obvious.

Not that she thinks they _can_. 

“When we get married, I shots the left side of the bed.”

Seriously.

“You’re only getting the prime bed spot if you take the most dishwashing days,” he plays along, musing irresponsible blond tuffs with the towel Kim’s tossed him as he slinks from the locker room. “That includes Sunday morning. Saturday nights are major guest nights.”

His lacrosse game couldn’t have gone better, even if Nino and Alya were babysitting and didn’t attend. He scored most of the goals and the pride warming Marinette’s expression as she greets him is what tops the cake. He still hears Alix, Kim and Ivan chatting jubilantly of their win as the door swings behind him.

“You’ve obviously thought about this before.”

Adrien snaps the towel at her, purposefully missing, but water that’s been tipped on his head spurs from it and Marinette’s composure is quelled as the assumption of sweat drives her over. 

“You wish.”

Boy does she _ever_.

They break into step down the hall. Adrien pats down his arms and side-eyes her. Her blue pools of comfort are already beaming at him.

“I did that good for a marriage proposal, huh?”

“Yep!”

He does little to hinder the bashful chuckle. 

“And you touched my shoulder twice yesterday. That’s sixty-eight percent more than usual according to Max."

“That doesn’t mean we’re _married_ , Marinette.” 

Her lips quirk. “Totally does.”


	2. Chapter 2

Even Chat’s gleeful that evening, fashion-disaster akuma confidently ruining his schedule and all. It’s typical banter, happy days, and being pulverised into city building walls. 

Adrien can’t pay much attention to his acquired brain injuries after today. He’s won his lacrosse game and he’s with _her_ and it’s _wonderful_ : the superheroine and girl of his dreams with a brain as thick as the brick he’s soon thwacked against. She can’t pick up his utter amour for her no matter the flirt, but it doesn’t _matter_ because they’re _great_ friends having _great_ times fighting for their lives and universe as they know it thrice a week.

The best of moments.

“We’ll have this science failure wrapped up in no time, M’lady,” he assures with a smile too large for a Monday afternoon. “Our chemistry is immaculate.”

Joltingly, a green slob of magical rudeness cuts through their side-by-side stance.

Her lips are sly, mixed-coloured suit leaping in his peripheral as she murmurs, “Apparently not.”

Chat’s feet stutter on the ledge. Just for a second. 

It's nothing.

One day, _one day_ , he’ll admit to her straightforward – no jokes, no grins, no puns. A great sacrifice, yeah, but as Chat Noir it’s only expected of his bravery to pour his heart out to the most fantastic woman on earth. He has nothing to lose anyway – just maybe a shred of hope that he’ll get to spend his life with her and promise her everything in the world because he’s _that_ guy. But it’s not as if his love for her can be blamed on _him_ mind you, since,

“Ladybug– Ladybug is _incredible_.”

He’ll love her with a chance or without. No matter what his insecurities or _Plagg_ thinks.

“Marinette’s cooler,” Plagg retorts around a bite of camembert cheese, once again falling tired of his chosen’s latest monologue about how amazing his dream wife was in battle.

A basketball lands in Adrien’s catch. “Stop with that.”

“You totally like her.”

“ _Plagg_.”

“I know you do.” The entire roll magically disappears in his much smaller body. “I know everything.”

Lifting himself upright on the couch, he pegs the ball at Plagg in effort to get him to shut up, but the whole levitating and fusing with matter thing don’t really work in his favour. A sound clutters nearby and Adrien grins seeing the stack of cheese on the piano tumble variously. 

Plagg gasps and his owner rolls back into the sofa. “Then tell me how Ladybug hasn’t figured out I have more than a ‘crush’ on her.”

“Oh, yes; when she called you her little fanboy.” Plagg huffs, unbeknownst to Adrien if it’s from the Fall of Bastille or cynical indifference. “I guess you’re just _so cool_ she can’t possibly imagine that someone like _you_ , your royal awesomeness, could fall for her.”

Adrien’s brow slumps, hanging over soundless green eyes of ‘Shut your cheese trap’. His room, the definition of Rich Kid Flex, waits in a silence that holds Adrien’s dignity (if there’s much left) by the neck.

“Or there’s another guy.”

Adrien stills.

Another guy?

“Another—” 

“Yeah. Why not?” Adrien hasn’t even realised Plagg’s allocated another camembert roll until a familiar, repulsive, gulping sound. But it’s the words that coil unpleasantly in his gut.

_Why not?_

Ladybug very much in fact could have another guy lined up in her unmasked persona, which already seems doubtful because doesn’t she have, like, the best judgment? _(‘That’s_ rude _, Adrien, you’re right but still._ ) And besides, he can… wait… forever. It’ll be like waiting for his dad to join him for dinner! It _sucks_ , but Adrien’s persistent. One day. Sure. 

Sure.

Adrien presses his lips into a thin line and looks up at the kwami with a meek expression. “You don’t really think so, do you?”

An uninterested murmur meets him.

“Eh, even if there is, you can always go to Marinette.”

“Marinette is _kidding_ , Plagg,”

That’s the difference. _He’s_ not with Ladybug – that’s blatantly obvious – but Marinette is… well she’s certainly _forward_ but she’s also certainly _joking_. He knows this. Plagg knows it, and yet—

“She’s still cooler, though.”

Adrien face-slams a pillow. What is _with_ him with that? Looking back, he doesn’t know what he expected when talking to Plagg of all a-holes about the situation. Advice? Sympathy? _Ha_. He’s the god of bad luck for a reason, and that reason seems to be making Adrien’s life a laughingstock. 

And a laughingstock it is. Not that Adrien knows it.

Plagg inhales more camembert to cover his chuckles.

* * *

“Why don’t you just ask him out for real?”

A locker’s door slam shakes the adjacent compartments. 

“I asked him to marry me the other day, Alya.” Marinette checks if she has everything sealed in her bag (‘ _Physics textbook, lunch box, cookies, true feelings about Adrien. Check._ ’) before the weight joins the burdens on her back. “I don’t think I can be any more obvious.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re jok—” 

“And after moaning about how hungry I was, I asked in the cafeteria if I could order _him_ because he was a ‘certified meal’.”

Her friend’s casual serenity goes stiff. Alya’s hand slaps to her mouth, lips rigid and trying feebly to keep in the sudden influx of erratic snickers. Huffing, Marinette offers her back to talk to instead as she trots for the hall. 

“What are you—?” A throat clears, Marinette’s stride out the threshold warning she had thin time to get herself collected or she’ll be walking by herself. “What are you thinking you’ll do? Finally confess?”

“I’m not sure.”

Really, she’s not. There’s something so exhilaratingly frustrating about watching an obtuse straight-A student frolic around his own obliviousness while she throws him her feelings like flower petals, as though it’s a wedding with his comical dumbness as the marital. But there’s something _safe_ about not laying the grounds of her true ardour seriously for him to trample on anyway. He very much _could_ not like her – in fact, he likely doesn’t. And that’s fine! 

As long as she doesn’t have to hear it from him.

Shielding her palpable heart with whims of wits seems the safest route, because no matter her _confidence_ level, being _brave_ enough to literally confess is another story; another _genre_ entirely – 

Fiction.

“I know you can do it, girl. Don’t doubt yourself. And if all goes wrong, like say, Adrien running your feelings over with a reminder that you’re just friends,”

Marinette’s pace stammers a little,

“blame his dumb judgment with his dumb detective skills.”

She sighs, thoughts arguing. Her bag strap fills her grip as she politely tells the whispers of insecurities to get stuffed.

“Thanks, Alya.”

Maybe… she _could_ consider it.


End file.
